


thats my name, don't wear it out

by orphan_account



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Aromantic Character, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Language, Kink Negotiation, M/M, captaincy kink, jersey kink, unappropriate use of olympic medals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-06 19:00:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8765203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Leon and Max and the olympic jersey he held up or friends communicating what they want and Leon working through his disappointment with a friendly hand (ahem)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Some of those tags are just in case. except for the medal, that was all on me. 
> 
> I almost made Leon say his own name. [insert joke here]
> 
> Aro!Max with a healthy appreciation for sex and all the stops. Also, a really dirty mouth, I could not stop him from cursing. Leon is an awkward duck who isn't very good at dirty talking because he thinks it sounds silly and wooden in the moment. Also, there's a couple of lines that I should clear up: penetrative sex is not the end all be all. So yeah, enjoy!

It’s not a secret that Max has a jersey collection of his name and can often scarily recall why and when he came to add it to his collection. At first, Leon had brushed it off as admiration, a healthy dose of flattery and pride rushing through him underneath the calm he tried to project often. Once they had embarked on a friends with added benefits of sharing a bed and getting each other off, it had seemed fun and easy to get Max to put on the very same jersey he had stripped off. They were little finesse and all eagerness and Leon couldn’t deny his brain went a little stupid when he could see his name on Max’s back, whether tracing over it during a cuddling session or in between thrusts.

But this time, it was different. It was the jersey he could’ve worn. The shirt that could’ve been as a silver medal hung around his neck. There had been far too many of those instances, missed games and missed chances that Leon would be angry about if only Max would let him.

That was the secret.

At least the one Leon had managed to figure out. Max had a couple of early shirts, a stupendous goal here and a marked assist there but most of the jerseys in his collection were the seasons and games he was robbed of. It had started casually, pilfering the shirt fron his comeback game or showing up with a new one and letting him sweat out the lingering frustration of his body time and time again getting hurt in crucial moments.

It helped Leon get through rehabs and interviews and watching his teams plays without him. Getting the reward of Max in his jersey gave him something else to look forward to beyond the gnawing doubt and hunger that came from not be able to play the game he had dedicated his life to.

Except the Olympics had been especially bittersweet and Leon hadn’t been ready to face his number and name on Max until now, way past the date of a clean bill of health. Max respected his wishes, knowing it had been tough to not be there against Brazil, telling him time and time again there was nothing to regret. Silver was still medaling. It didn’t change the course of history in German football. (At least on the men’s side.)

They had the afternoon and next day off until morning practice on Tuesday and Leon was ready to conquer his disappointment by turning Max into a satiated pile of goo in his bed.

He texted him during his grocery shopping: get yr jersey and medal too.

Leon could almost taste his plans coming into fruition as he waited in line to get to the cashier and go home. Max would only need to wait a little longer.

Sex between friends as close as they are between football and the world shouldn’t have worked as well as it did. Leon had learned early on that Max wasn’t interested in casual romance the way most people weren’t into casual dating. He valued their friendship and constantly invited him to events to get him out of the house and into “fun attire” but never pushed on labeling what they had.

“I like your dick and I like the way you think.” Max reasoned one night and shrugged as if to say why complicate it any further than that.

So Leon liked to think of this arrangement as his best friend helping him however he could, even if it meant having sex and cuddling afterwards. And Leon appreciated not having to stray out of his comfort zone to get that added intimacy because football and his career was far more important to him than dating and remembering anniversaries.

“You want help putting away your groceries?” Max hopped off his counter, still dressed in street clothes. Leon smirked but didn’t say anything about the anticipation he could practically see vibrating off him.

“Sure, get the veggies in the fridge. Except the onions. I’ll put the freezer stuff in. Everything else can wait.”

Max rolls his eyes at the reminder of the one time he had made the mistake.  
“When will you get tired of repeating yourself, Leon. It only happened once you know.”

Leon looked up thoughtfully, faking Max out before going in to mess with his hair. He batted at his hand before dropping the celery into the drawer with an unceremonious thump.

“I don’t know, when will you learn how to cook?” Max only grumbled as he moved bananas out of the way.

Leon only checked to see the rest of his paper bags were out of the way before crowding Max back onto the counter, his hands going to his waist to distract him from the hard edge of the marble digging into his back as he leaned into him.

“Hi,” Leon met Max’s amused eyes head on, resting his forehead against his just for a moment before ducking down to catch his lips and taste the coffee on his breath. They keep that up until air becomes a problem and Leon’s hands have wandered under Max’s shirt, stroking to the top of his jeans, trying to dip further down under them.

“Thanks for waiting,” Leon doesn’t look up, focusing mindlessly on the path of his thumbs and the tiny motions Max can’t help, his hips jumping at the start of something Leon intends to follow.

“No problem,” Max answers a little breathlessly, stretching out the vowels.  
“Did you bring everything?” He drops to his knees, getting close enough to see exactly what Max was hiding. The buttons are easy enough to undo although Leon prefers the sound of a zipper in the tension of the kitchen silence.

“Mmhmm,” Max hums out in a rush, nodding, maybe gesturing to the living room or the bedroom but Leon gets tunnel vision when he wants to go down on someone and it’s been far too long for him. Suddenly he’s aware of the months that have passed since they last did this. It makes his blood rush faster, his mouth water a little.

Pushing down briefs and pants to get to Max’s cock isn’t a struggle, the urge to go slow is. Leon mentally debates leaving this to later, after he’s fucked Max but quickly dismisses it. Max could handle it.

He gets his mouth on him, tongue going back and forth methodically, almost soothingly but for the curses spilling out out of Max’s mouth. Leon wraps a hand around the base of him.

“Shit, yes, fucking finally,” Max slumps a little, hands on top of his hair but not doing much else until Leon sucks at the rest of his dick. He buries his fingers into the gelled hair with a hiss of ‘fuck yes’ but doesn’t tug.

He pulls back, using saliva to make the glide of his hand easier. The slow pace driving Max insane, his eyes screwed shut as his body coils tighter with tension. Leon decides swallowing would offset the torture enough as he goes back, other hand only skimming past his balls to tease the rim of his hole before going back. Max is practically chanting out nonsense.

He hollows his cheeks, tongue flat to catch more skin and surges down to the base, nails catching Max’s thighs as he tries to hold him from bucking up too much. He bobs once, twice before he feels the twitch and spurt of come in his mouth as Max stifles a winded sob.

Leon swallows as much as he can, but doesn’t quite manage all of it, swiping the dribble off with a sleeve of his shirt.

“Shit, I don’t know if I can think right now.” Max looks dazed as Leon stands up, debauched certainly with his pants still around his ankles. Leon is perfectly pleased with getting Max to his bed without the bossing around he usually does. He’s hard enough to not need the extra incentive and tease. Max still grabs the collar of his shirt to filthily get to the back of his throat and chase the taste of himself before letting him go.

“I want to try something different.” They still havent moved. Max’s head dipping to rest on his chest.

“Okay,” Max’s answer is muffled into his shirt.

“Put your jersey on and give me mine.”

Max looks up, interested and more on board than he would’ve guessed. He licks his lips, pulls up his jeans and underwear with a small wince of sensitivity before bringing out a hanging clothes bag, opaque enough to hide the contents. Leons almost laughs.

“You’re really looking forward to this.” He doesn’t even question it by now. Max had his quirks and one of them was getting manhandled in full or partial gear. It made it somewhat sweeter that it was usually Leon’s name on the back rather than his own.

“Of course, I’ve even got the captain band in there.” Max replies loftily as if he hadn’t just had his brains sucked out through his dick.

He raises an eyebrow.

“Should I wear it or you?” Max’s eyes widen a fraction, like it hadn’t occurred to him until that very instant (when it had very much during the tournament.) His mouth hangs open slightly as he contemplates it with a far off gaze.

“Oh, huh,” He’s still a little glassy-eyed when he zips open the bag and critically peruses the kits.

Max hands him the armband and his jersey quietly. Leon nods, knowing exactly how the night will unfold.

It was nice to have the ease of friendship when they got into the thick of it. Leon couldn’t hold back his laughter when Max came out in the shorts as well. He was committing to the role of a post-match fuck and Max was always serious about that.

“I should probably thank you for not putting on the socks as well I guess?”

Max wrinkles his nose at the thought, “who wears socks to bed, I don’t, besides they’re more comfortable than the jeans I had on.” He pitches his voice lower, the way he does when he’s flirting to be funny. Leon’s gaze still travels at the line down to the black shorts. He’s glad they are not white like Schalke’s because he’s positive Max has nothing on underneath.

“Where’s your medal?” Leon asks before Max can climb onto the bed.

“Oh, right,” He goes back to the en suite and comes out with the bright band around his neck, the silver disk still shining brightly. Leon’s heart beats faster. His hand smoothing down the covers once before tugging them back to the foot of the bed.

He settled by the pillows, leaning back enough for his jersey to lift slightly, the sensation oddly stark in his mind, just like the armband tight against his bicep. Max gets on his knees, moving without hurry until he can bracket his thighs and sit on his lap like an oversized cat.

They kiss, Max being the one to lean down now, just enough that the medal knocks into his sternum. Leon takes a quick breath in, the unexpected touch on his sensitized nerves exhilarating.

“I was thinking of tying your hands up with this, but I guess the armband will do.” Leon tugs on the bright fabric just enough for Max to groan a little, the vibrations traveling down his neck as he sharply sucked on his jaw.

Leon isn’t very good at talking dirty during sex. It’s mostly perfunctory but Max always reacts to him like he’s going to bend him over right then and there.

“I’m gonna make you sweat. Make you rub off against the bed while I stretch you out wearing nothing but the medal and my shirt.” Max rolls on top of him. It isn’t the right angle but Leon can feel him getting hard.

“Yeah?” Max shakily replies, hands stilling on his nipples to close his eyes. “Fuck,” Max bites down on his lip hard enough to make Leon worry he’ll bleed.

“You want that?” He whispers, tugging his lip down, out of danger. Max catches his fingers with his tongue, flicking against the pads before answering yes.

Leon already had the lube and condoms out while Max changed so he reached out for the bottle. Max made to grab it.

“No,” He said a little forcefully, pulling the lube away from his reach.

“But I want to…” Max made a tugging motion with his hand. Leon shook his head, hair still in disarray.

“I’m going to fuck you.” He paused, trying to string enough words to explain, “I’m going to fuck you. I don’t want your mouth or your hand this time, okay?” He repeats to make sure Max gets it. This was more than their usual post-game screw, fast and hard. It was for the Olympics. He needed to lose himself in making Max come until they forgot that Silver meant there was a place above them.

“Holy–okay, okay, Captain.” Max patted his shoulders. There wasn’t any playfulness or desire as their eyes met. It was reassurance and understanding that met him. Leon smiled before telling him to get on his back.

He apologized for the coldness as he couldn’t keep his hands to himself and rucked up Max’s shirt so the hem almost reached the neckline. Gently, he pulled the medal out from the folds and Max hissed as it made contact with his skin. Leon lazily kissed every patch of skin he found interesting as Max writhed and tried to wiggle out of his shorts impatiently.

“Regret it now?” He poked fun at him before getting a glare and a creative curse. Leon took pity on him helping to slide them off and out of their way.

“Don’t worry, we have time for you to come again before I fuck you.” Max wheezed out a chuckle, throwing his head back to the pillows when Leon finally got his hands where he needed them.

“Why-Why would I-be worried-god, fuck-don’t stop,” trips off his tongue to pause on every down stroke. Leon reaches down for the medal, now warm leeching the temperature from Max’s body. He doesn’t stop but slows down enough for Max to whimper.

“What should we do with this. Can’t let it get dirty.” He muses out loud, grip getting tighter on his dick. Max whines.

“You’re so loud, Max. Sit up a little.” Max braces his hands to move, his jersey falls a little to brush against his nipples.

“Open your mouth.” Max’s eyes go wide, dark with desire. His jaw opens wide as he shakes, close, too close “Bite down and be careful.” Leon says softly before he slips the silver medal into his mouth, seeing his teeth clamp down, lips stretched just slightly over the side of the rim. He twists his wrist and Max comes, a moan muffled around his makeshift gag. He lets the medal drop to pant out.

“You’re going to fucking kill me.”

Leon shrugs nonchalantly but grins widely, proud as he wipes off his hand and Max’s stomach. He’s uncomfortably hard in his boxer briefs. There is only one more thing to do.

“Take your shirt off,” Max wastes no time in stripping it off, flinging the jersey out to a corner of the room. Leon makes a mental note to look for it after they were done. He wants to keep the momento.

"Here," Leon pulls off his shirt with one hand, leaving him with just his underwear. Max stares, stunned for a moment before putting on. It's a little too big, loose at his sides but the fabric feels fluid and silky against his heated skin. "How many fingers?"

Max's eyelashes flutter before he answers, "three." There isn't any more conversation between as he gets on his stomach, knees apart, pillow supporting him. Leon wraps the armband around his wrists, loose enough that he could wriggle them out if he lost his balance on his elbows but tight enough to know it's there restraining him.

It would be uncomfortable in a short while but Leon knew he wouldn't last long having waited this long. His hands caress down the flanks of his thighs. Max is so pliant after two orgasms that Leon can easily slip the tip of his finger, lubed up to the second knuckle.

His eyes are on the negative space in the zero of his number ten. He pulls out and pushes deeper, curling the tip slightly, not quite searching. Max shifts, his head cradled between his forearms.

"Leon, please," He's not sure if Max is pleading for himself or on his behalf. The weight of his cock is on the edge of unbearable. Three fingers would be barely enough to get him prepped for the pace Leon had in mind. His eyes shifted up, tracing the letters of his last name, only looking away to get more lube on his fingers. G-O

Leon fucked his fingers in the way he wanted to with his dick. G-O-R-

Max jerked when his fingers found his prostate, breathing heavily into the inside of his left arm. Leon fit his third finger in, Max dropped his weight down, the swing of his medal making a slight noise as it arced with him. G-O-R-E-

Max's shoulders in this position, with his elbows flat against the sheets, stretched the fabric between them. G-O-R-E-T

He put a condom on, gingerly, taking steadying breaths, not wanting to blow before he even got the chance. It was already too quick. His blood rushing down, making him woozy and drunk. G-O-R-E-T-Z-

"Leon, Leon, Leon," Max gasped out as he felt him slide in, inch by inch, body shuddering. Leon hissed out a breath as he bottomed out, gripping Max and his jersey tight, holding him up to thrust shallowly. G-O-R-E-T-Z-K

"God, God," Max cried as he pulled out just enough to hear the slick slide before rocking back over and over, fucking him until his thighs started to shake from the force. G-O-R-E-T-Z-K-A.

It only took a second before Max choked on a noise after Leon pumps his hand over his cock. Leon stared at the Goretzka printed on his back with a final thrust he groaned, his sweaty forehead sticking to the fabric as he caught his breath. He rolled to the side, taking care to bin the condom in the garbage under his nightstand. He wanted to get up before everything started cooling and getting sticky but his legs felt like jelly.

"Jesus, Goretzka, you've been saving that one up haven't you?" Max yanked the armband off his wrist with some creative tugging and spread out like an exhausted starfish.

"We should clean up." He flung an arm up to shield his eyes from the ceiling light, suddenly too bright.

"It can wait for a second. I don't think I can walk," Max huffed, chest rising up and carrying the silver medal with it. Leon smiled fondly beneath the crook of his elbow.

"I don't think I can either."

He lets his arm fall and they met eyes before laughing themselves silly. Max finally rolls off the bed after his fit of giggles abides, coming back with a wet washcloth and a frown. He throws the small towel at Leon's face while scratching at the bottom of his borrowed jersey with his nails. The dried come was pretty evident on the green/gray color scheme. 

"I didn't want to wash it," Max pouts, as he slides back onto the bed.

"I'm not doing your laundry. I have enough of mine to do." Max doesn't seem to register his rejected proposal because he is still directing puppy eyes at Leon.

"You have the all-in-one thing and it's the principal of it. How else will I remember this moment, Leon?" 

"Same way I am, in here." Leon taps his temple before rolling over to him to inspect the damage personally. It wasn't that terrible. The inside was probably worse and Max would still wear it to sleep in if they didn't manage to get up to shower any time soon. His number ten was partially hidden by the medal still on his chest. His ears flushed a little at the way he had treated it in the moment. 

"You should probably put this away." He nudges it with a finger. Max smiles like he knows exactly why he suggests it. 

"Why? Gonna gag me again?" He says without any real bite, already looping it off his neck to put it on the nightstand.

"Fuck off, you liked it."

**Author's Note:**

> All mistakes are my own.


End file.
